Rating:
R
House:
Schnoogle
Characters:
Draco Malfoy Harry Potter
Genres:
Drama Slash
Era:
Multiple Eras
Spoilers:
Philosopher's Stone Chamber of Secrets Prizoner of Azkaban Goblet of Fire Order of the Phoenix Quidditch Through the Ages Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them
Stats:
Published: 09/02/2003
Updated: 06/01/2004
Words: 97,555
Chapters: 13
Hits: 86,243

Windfallen

Cinnamon

Story Summary:
A new Unforgivable is spreading like wildfire and only Harry Potter is immune to its power, and only he can soothe its effects. When Draco is hit by the curse and left for dead by his own side, a misguided sense of duty compels Harry to care for him, and in doing so, he learns more than he ever thought possible about nightmares, hatred, love, and above all, the true nature of forgiveness. Harry/Draco, semi-consensual Charlie/Harry, Ginny/Lucius, and Ron/Ginny. Post-Hogwarts, post OotP, and very dark.

Chapter 06

Chapter Summary:
A new unforgiveable is spreading like wildfire and only Harry Potter is immune to its power, and only he can soothe its effects. When Draco is hit by the curse and left for dead by his own side, a misguided sense of duty compels Harry to care for him, and in doing so, he learns more than he ever thought possible about nightmares, hatred, love, and above all, the true nature of forgiveness.
Posted:
02/01/2004
Hits:
5,203

Windfallen

Chapter Six: Peace, Then.

If you wait I will wait, Taste I will taste
If you love I will love, Run I will run
To my last breath.
Last night I turned around and thought I saw myself turning
Inside the strangest dream of life unloved and cities burning
Awake in my arms, You cry unharmed
Our age of the hours, While they still devour all
So take it all.
I doubt if we Will know it's gone
Cause we've been here
Since time began.


"I don't feel like learning Patronus today," Malfoy said, sounding sullen. He was pale, his eyes rimmed with shadows, after a sleepless night plagued with dreams. Harry hadn't slept either, had held Malfoy and whispered secrets to him in an attempt to calm him, had cried over him because he was helpless, and now they sat listlessly on the floor of the practice chamber.

"You have to keep your magic strength up," Harry told him, though his heart wasn't in it.

"There are other ways," Malfoy said. "I'll teach you something."

"I don't want to learn a dark spell," Harry snapped.

Malfoy smiled coldly. "I always did wonder how you got into Gryffindor," he said casually.

"What do you mean?" Harry cried.

"Well, I thought courage was a requirement."

There was silence for a moment, and then grudgingly, Harry said, "I'm not afraid of dark spells, Malfoy."

Gray eyes narrowed. "Perhaps you should be."

Sighing, Harry shook his head. "I won't learn dark magic. I will not lower myself to that."

"It's not the magic that determines whether something is good or bad. Magic is just a force, to be bent to your will, and should that will be good, so will the magic. Just because it is dark magic does not mean it is evil."

"Usually dark and evil go hand in hand," Harry said dryly.

"Mmm, do they? Perhaps it's time we got over that bias."

Harry sighed again. "Fine, Malfoy, teach me your dark magic if it will make the time go by faster and help you get stronger magically. I don't really care."

"You should." There was a strange light in his eyes. "You really should, Potter. Get up." Harry was sitting on the floor, leaning against the wall, and he stood, rolling his eyes.

"It's not an Unforgivable, is it?"

"No, not even close," Malfoy said with a small smile. "Raise your wand like this." He demonstrated, watching Harry carefully as he copied the motion, holding his wand at a slight angle. "It isn't a swish and flick for this one," Malfoy said quietly, almost teasingly, and the sudden bittersweet memories of the Time Before, in Charms class, and the troll that Ron and he defeated with their Swish and Flick nearly brought Harry to his knees. He trembled once and Malfoy saw it but did not comment. "It's more like this," he said, snapping his wrist so the wand slashed through the air like a sword, changing the wand from a director of magic, to an advocate of violence.

Harry imitated it, clumsily, and Malfoy smirked. "You're enjoying this," Harry murmured.

"I am," Malfoy said with a smile.

He shivered a little, eyes widening, because that smile had taken him off guard. "What's the word for this spell?"

"I'll show you the spell. Get behind me." Malfoy took his arm and tugged him closer and Harry suddenly became a thousand times more nervous.

Malfoy repeated the slashing motion with his wand and hissed, "Incursus."

Something seemed to tear through Malfoy, and Harry only felt it because he was hovering behind him, peering nervously over his shoulder, fingertips resting just between Malfoy's shoulder blades. It was a force that seemed to make his skin shiver and grow fractionally colder, and then tear through him and through his wand, spilling from the tip in the strangest shadow Harry had ever seen. It was not the flat and dull lack of colour that shadow usually was, it was something that seemed like, should you stare into it long enough, you'd see all the colours of the rainbow. Like rainbows that hovered on oil patches, it was at once black and every shade imaginable, and so very deep that Harry felt he could fall into it, if he was close enough. It moved and shuddered with a life of it's own, and it took a nearly endless second for Harry to realize that it was not a formless anti-shape, but had a definitive form.

It was a winged horse, a Thestral, black, or sort of black. Black that is endless shadow. It made no sound as it moved with effortless grace, stalking the dancing shadows with arrogance in every careful, precise step.

"What is it?" Harry whispered, shaken. There was something distinctly not right about the creature.

"My Patronus."

Peering at the creature over Malfoy's shoulder, Harry said doubtfully, "It's sort of black."

"I had noticed." The creature gradually faded out, and Harry carefully moved away from Malfoy, still confused.

"Okay, I don't understand," he admitted finally.

"You build your Patronus out of your happiest memory, and that is one built out of my worst. Hatred and terror and pain."

"A Dark Patronus?" Harry guessed softly, a little awed at seeing all the vulnerable parts of Malfoy take a physical form.

"In plebian terms, I suppose. We call it the Incursus Curse. It is not exactly the same as a Patronus, however. Where a Patronus defends, this will attack. It will kill." Malfoy was watching him carefully.

"Kill?" he echoed, eyes widening. "Kill what?"

"The same thing a Patronus will defend you from."

"Dementors."

Malfoy smiled again, and Harry was nearly undone. It was not right for Malfoy to smile at him like that, as if he approved of something, approved of Harry. "Yes," he said simply. "Now you do it."

"How?"

"Same was as you do the Patronus, only instead of your best memory, think of your worst. The one that makes you hate the most, or fear the most."

Harry tried; he thought of Voldemort killing his parents, and of Ron losing his magic. Of Ginny losing her mind and Charlie touching him. He thought of the war and the new curse and all of the blood he had spilt and touched. For hours, he tried, unable to produce anything more than the barest hint of a shadow.

All the hatred and fear and pain of Harry Potter was not even a shadow of Draco Malfoy's, and the knowledge humbled him and made him want to cry, because he hated so much, so badly, and yet, somehow, Malfoy hated more.

***

Sometimes at night, Malfoy didn't slip into the curse. Sometimes they slept together calmly and peacefully, still curled together out of necessity and maybe, by now, habit or something more. They fit together though, and Harry had the vague idea that his sleep would be disturbed more often than ever by nightmares, were it not for the arm that somehow always ended draped over his hip, and Malfoy's soft breathing brushing his forehead, where his lips rested lightly, certainly not in a kiss, but just because they were that close.

More often than not, however, Harry would wake in the middle of the night because Malfoy cried out in his sleep, and so he was drained, exhausted, and running on very little sleep. Still, his exhaustion was nothing compared to Malfoy's, who always, always, fell asleep first.

Harry moved just fractionally closer, letting out a soft breath and smiling a little at the irritated sound Malfoy made in his sleep, annoyed at the slight disturbance. And then, nuzzling just a little against Malfoy's jumper and thinking rather hazily that he had never felt safer than this, Harry drifted off to sleep.

***

“I think I love you,” Harry said, and he hoped to god it hadn’t been out loud. He was dreaming, and the dream was a nightmare of sorts but not really. More of a reflection of the things he longed for which could never be, so there was an undercurrent of feverish and unrequited longing that twisted what would other wise have been the sweetest dream he had ever recalled.

In the dream, Malfoy was smiling the way Harry had never seen him smile. Fully, with his eyes lit up and the sparkle of laughter dancing in them. There were a thousand golden snitches all around, and the wind created by their wings was enough to ruffle Malfoy’s hair and yet make no sound. There were strange colours drifting through the air in the way that dreams seemed to make the extraordinary become ordinary.

“I think I love you,” Harry said, and Malfoy smiled and said, “I love you back.”

The colours danced like dragonflies all around, and Malfoy kissed Harry and Harry kissed him back, whispering into his mouth, again and again, “I think I love you, I think I’m in love with you, I’ve fallen in love with you…” And then, finally, as the colours drifted to the ground like forgotten flags, and softly, in a voice that was rather aching and lost, “Help me, help me, I’ve fallen in love without you…”

And then he woke up, because Malfoy was moaning beside him, moaning and sweating and lost in his own brand of nightmares.

Harry stared blankly at him for a long moment, before remembering what the real world consisted of, the colours and the Snitches and the kisses fading. He wondered how long he’d slept for, and wondered if he had said anything out loud while he was sleeping, anything that Malfoy might have heard.

He hoped to god he hadn’t.

“Malfoy,” he whispered. “It’s alright. Wake up.” It did no good, but he cuddled closer, breathing in the scent of Malfoy even as the other boy’s panicky breathing slowed. They were as close as they had been in the dream, but yet so far apart at the same time. Malfoy was his, was in his arms, closer to him than anyone had ever been (even Charlie had never gotten this close, when he was on Harry or even inside of him, he’d never been wrapped in Harry’s arms). And yet at the same time, Malfoy was so far gone in nightmares that he didn’t know it.

“I think…” Harry whispered. He licked his lips and Malfoy’s eyelids fluttered. His mouth opened and he moaned weakly. “I think I love you?” It was a question, and Malfoy did not reply. He shivered and whimpered. “I think I love you,” Harry repeated, and then he kissed Malfoy’s lips, experimentally, lightly. His breathing hitched and he shuddered, burying his face in Malfoy’s hair, stroking his back again and again. “It’s okay, it’s okay, I love you,” he chanted, until Malfoy calmed and was soothed. Falling into a regular sleep, Malfoy instinctively burrowed closer, until it was impossible to know where Malfoy ended and Harry began, and Harry thought contentedly that that was how it had always been meant to be.

Harry lost all track of time, and could not tell how long had passed before Malfoy’s body stiffened and he sucked in a startled breath, waking almost instantly.

While his breathing calmed and the mad lights in his eyes faded and almost disappeared, Harry studied his face in silence. When Malfoy finally closed his eyes and grimaced a little, swallowing hard, Harry whispered, “What do you dream about?”

Malfoy’s eyes flew open; he was furious. “I told you before, Potter,” he spat. “I do not wish to discuss it.”

Harry touched his face, tracing the red flush that rage brought to the other boy’s pale cheeks. “Shh, I’m sorry,” he whispered.

Wary silver eyes narrowed and met his. “What are you doing?” he whispered, swallowing hard.

“Answer me and I’ll answer you,” Harry replied, very softly. “Tell me what your nightmares are.”

“Why do you want to know?” Malfoy asked evasively.

“How can I destroy them if I don't know what they are?”

There was blank and empty nothing in Malfoy’s eyes as he struggled to deal with Harry’s words and Harry’s hand on his cheek. And then he blinked and an anger that was more self-preservation than anything bloomed there, and he hissed, “You want to know what my nightmares are, Potter? Surely you’ve got enough of your own and don’t need any of mine.”

Harry smiled because it did not matter if Malfoy shrieked and howled and tore him apart with his words and his tongue or even his teeth. The entire world had been steadily tearing him limb-from-limb for years and he had let them punish him for something he had not wanted, had not caused, and could not stop. And now, if Malfoy was to punish him for daring to love him, then Harry would gladly suffer that punishment. At least it was one he deserved.

Malfoy could hurt him and Harry would let him and like it.

“I need all of you,” he told him. “Your nightmares and all the rest.”

“I haven’t offered you a single part of me,” Malfoy spat.

Harry shifted awkwardly and his eyes skittered away. “I deserve this,” he whispered, speaking of the hurt he felt and the confusion. Malfoy misunderstood.

“That’s what this is, then? Another of your quests for punishment?” And then Malfoy was on top of him, pressing down on him, nearly suffocating him. Harry liked it. “You want a nightmare, Potter?” Malfoy hissed, and Harry nodded frantically.

“Yes, yes, yes,” he said.

Malfoy kissed him hard, angrily, and Harry’s eyelids fluttered weakly. His shaky hands held nervously to Malfoy’s shoulders and his entire body was trembling.

Malfoy pulled away with a curse. “I don’t want this,” he told Harry, furious. “And neither do you.”

Harry stared at him blankly. “When has it ever mattered what I want?” he said, not angrily, but in complete bewilderment.

Sneering, Malfoy got up and walked away. Harry waited until he was gone before he started to cry, aching, confused tears, because he was losing his mind. In love with Draco Malfoy? Of course not. But god, how he wanted to be, if only because he somehow knew that Malfoy was the only thing he could ever love. The only person in the entire world that Harry could help was the only one who didn’t want a single thing from him. Not his help nor his heroism nor weak words of hope. Nothing but respite from madness.

But surely this was another form of madness. A stranger, more twisted form. That Harry should become addicted to the one person who had always known how to hurt him worse than anyone else spoke volumes for his mental state.

And so he cried and cried and wished he was ten again, before he knew he was a wizard, before he knew he owed the world his life, before everything had fallen down on him. When he was just a little boy locked in a closet who dreamed of seeing the world.

***

There were silver stags dancing around the dining cavern, and Pansy was watching them like a little girl watching a frog turn into a prince. Her face was much thinner now, the curse had weakened her terribly. Her hair limp and dull, her eyes empty and dark, but a small smile lit up her face with childlike delight.

After they’d faded away, she turned to Harry, and said, “I wish I could do that.”

“It’s not so hard.”

She snorted. “For you, maybe. But you’re different. Where’s Draco? I haven’t seen him since early this morning, and he was in a terrible mood.”

“He’s avoiding me.” Harry shrugged. “I don’t mind.”

She studied him for a moment and then said, “What have you done, Potter?”

“I… I don’t know,” Harry cried. “I wasn’t thinking, I just wanted… wanted…”

“Wanted what?”

“To know what his nightmares are.”

“Why should he tell you that?” she scoffed. “What makes you think you deserve that? That’s the most intimate part of him. Some people’s deepest secrets are their dreams and hopes and that sort of shit. Not for Draco and not for me. Not for anyone like us. The deepest parts of us are nightmares.”

“I want them,” Harry whispered. “I want all of him. I want to… to save him.”

She laughed huskily. “Oh, Potter, you’d have done well in Slytherin. The entire Slytherin House is built around the idea that the Malfoys need to be saved. From themselves, mostly. That’s what we do, take care of them, see that they aren’t hurt too badly by Gryffindors.”

Harry felt vaguely stung. “Seems Malfoys do more hurting than Gryffindors do,” he mumbled.

“Of course it would seem so, to a Gryffindor.”

Changing the subject, Harry said, “It doesn’t matter. He’s avoiding me.”

“I thought you said you didn’t mind that he was avoiding you.”

“I don’t! I mean… it’s just… he’s so bloody frustrating, he never admits that he needs anyone, never! Which is ridiculous, because he needs me, he does!”

She laughed. “It would be a cold day in hell before he admitted to needing anything. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t need. He is human. And he needs to learn the Patronus Charm, it will help him weather the curse more easily. You must keep teaching him.”

Harry nodded and then said, “But he won’t want to take instruction from me anymore. I fucked that up too.”

“I will send him to you.” She grimaced, getting out of her chair. The curse had nearly destroyed her already. “Wait for him in the practice room, he’ll be there soon.”

Harry watched her go, and then made his way to the practice room, grimly sure that Malfoy wouldn't come. Who would want to, really, after Harry had just... what had he just done? Confessed that he wanted... all of Malfoy. Fuck. He didn't want any part of him! Wanted nothing. This was madness. Some stupid side effect of the curse. How could they be sure he couldn't catch it? Maybe he had. He was crazy, it was the only explanation.

Malfoy did show up, and he was in a terrible temper when he did. He stalked into the practice room, glanced coldly at Harry once, and then scowled. There was a moment of silence, and then Harry opened his mouth to speak. Maybe to apologize, maybe to say something snappy and irritable. He never got the chance.

"Don't bother," Malfoy growled. "I don't want to talk about it. I'm only here because of Pansy, so let's get this over with."

Sighing, Harry nodded. "Fine, whatever you want, Malfoy," he said distantly. "The faster you learn Patronus, the better, I guess."

Malfoy turned to look at him again, sneering. "Patronus? We're not learning that anymore, remember? You're learning my spell."

Harry considered making an issue of it, objecting purely because he was feeling irritable, and maybe a little because the Patronus would help hold off the debilitating effects of the curse. Finally, he scoffed. "Whatever, Malfoy."

Malfoy smiled once and nodded, all very smugly. "Good. Let me see you try."

Harry did try, but still, he failed. He tried as hard as he could, calling up his most hateful, horrid memory, but there was not enough hatred and terror inside of him to cast the shadow. Instead, ribbons of darkness would twirl faintly to the ground and disappear.

"I can't," he said desperately. "I can't do it."

Malfoy looked, if anything, as if this pleased him. "Keep practicing," he mocked. "Now you know what it's like to be bested at something, at least."

Harry scowled. "I know what it's like to be bested at a lot of things," he said.

Malfoy laughed sarcastically. "I'm sure you do," he said.

Absently, Harry called up three silver stags, if only to reassure himself that just because he could not perform Malfoy's spell, that did not mean he was completely useless.

Malfoy's eyes narrowed and he watched the stags in the shimmering torchlight, before he snorted and, with a slash of his wand, called up a black Thestral.

It stood between them, shivering with nervousness, the tension on the air making it skittish. It tossed its head and flicked its wings, though it made no sound.

"Surely being more terrified even than I am is nothing to boast about," Harry sneered quietly.

He felt rather than saw his words go through Malfoy, felt the way Malfoy tensed, his shoulders straightening and his breath catching, furious that anyone would dare imply that it was fear rather than hate that he built his Thestral from.

That fury, directed at Harry, was enough to tell the Thestral what it was that Malfoy wished destroyed. It turned to face Harry, tossing its black head, and raising up on its hind legs, kicking its front hooves and tossing its head again. Harry stumbled back a step, startled, and glanced around for help, but his stags had all faded away.

The Thestral charged him, head down, wings tucked in, eyes blazing with black fire. Malfoy cried, "No!", but it was too late, the Thestral tore through him, ripping his skin and his soul in two and setting his nerves on liquid fire. The actual contact only lasted a moment, and there was no blood, no physical wound, for all that it had ran him through.

He was distantly aware of his body falling to the ground, very, very slowly, because everything was moving a thousand times more slowly than normal. And Malfoy was running to his side, but taking so very long, and it didn't matter, because he wasn't there anymore, in that body, on that floor, in that cavern. He was Somewhere Else, though where, he could not quite tell.

It was dark, and very still, though the silence echoed and was interrupted by the hissing of dripping water, like someone had left a faucet on. Harry was cold, and he shivered and wondered distantly why he was so terrified to be in a place of Nothing where someone had left the water running, why he felt like he was waiting for something to come from the Nothing and rip him apart. There was a nearly palpable taste of terror mingled with anxious waiting on the air.

And all the while, he was aware of his body, waiting as well, for Malfoy to get there. But it was so slow, was taking so long, and there was still such a long way for him to go.

And then suddenly, the waiting was over, because the shriek of a Dementor echoed loudly in the Nothing, and a series of visions, dreams, maybe nightmares, flew past, brushing Harry with fingers of icy fear. They surrounded him, bringing with him flashes of death and pain, visions where women were crying, their blonde hair stained pink with blood, where children lay dead, with glazed over eyes, where Dementors laughed, and it was a sound more terrible than their screams. Whispers rustled in the back of his mind, a thousand, thousand whispers, hisses, telling strange tales of torture and slavery and bondage. Harry screamed, and Somewhere Else, his body reared up off a cavern floor, and a terrified shriek flew from his lips.

There was terror on all sides and it would never end, he knew it would never end, he'd never ever get out of this, never be sane again. This was reality, this mad swirling mess of nightmare and fear. He'd never see the sunrise, never smile, never be anything but a terrified child stuck in a whirlwind of everything that was worth fearing.

He started to run, tearing through the nightmares that seemed to giggle at his attempts to escape, and spin all the more faster around him. But still, he ran, looking for calm and respite, and crying because there was none. This was his nightmare, this was his--

And then, Somewhere Else, Malfoy finally reached him, and fell to his knees beside him, and touched his face.

The nightmares froze, a murmur of confusion running through them like a cool autumn breeze.

Harry made his way around the frozen nightmares, which hung like horrible icicles in the shadow of the Nothing. He could hear his own confused breathing, because this was his nightmare, wasn't it? This had to be real...

And yet, there was that other reality, where Malfoy was stroking his face and talking to him. He could not hear the words, but he could see it, somehow, if he closed his eyes.

But he kept walking, looking for somewhere calm and safe, heading towards the center of the Nothing, as if pulled by an invisible string.

And then, moments later, Malfoy lifted him up into his arms, against his chest, and started rocking him, squeezing his eyes shut, still talking, though Harry could not hear him. He stumbled around more and more nightmares, and then stopped, because in the exact center of the Nothing, there was a boy, a silvery boy who stood straight and tall, and shone with some sort of halo, a silver shimmer all over his body. His head was tilted just a little, and there was a small smile on his lips, and just looking at him, Harry felt the world shift a little, and the Nothing started melting away. Because it was him. It was Harry Potter. These weren't his nightmares, they were Malfoy's, and in the midst of all the darkness and terror that made up Malfoy's core, Harry Potter stood as his Patronus.

And, in the other reality, Malfoy buried his face in Harry's hair, and whispered, "I'm sorry, come back, please, I'm sorry."

The Nothing dripped away, and Harry fell back to his body and to Malfoy, who was trying not to cry. Harry panicked, because those nightmares had become a part of him, had melted into his mind and if he closed his eyes, he could feel the cold terror and the fear. He started fighting against Malfoy, trying to get away, terrified and hyperventilating and sobbing. Malfoy only held him tightly, stroking his hair and whispering to him, until gradually, the nightmares faded to the back of Harry's memory, and he was holding onto Malfoy as tightly as Malfoy was holding onto him.

"Oh my god," Harry gasped, breathing heavily and bathed in sweat.

"Are you alright?" Malfoy asked shakily.

Harry whimpered and said, "It was... it was so cold and there was nothing... nothing... but everywhere, there was fear and death and whispers and it hurt... I couldn't... it was real... was that real? Oh god, Malfoy, that wasn't real, was it? Tell me it wasn't--"

Malfoy kissed him, not an angry kiss, or a sleepy kiss, but an infinitely gentle one that softly brushed the faint remains of terror away like dust bunnies or cobwebs. Harry's body, battered and aching from the screaming and the fear, went limp in Malfoy's arms, his eyes fluttered shut, and he let himself be kissed, though he did not kiss back. Rather than seeing the nightmares when he closed his eyes, Harry saw blue skies adrift with cotton clouds, and felt sunlight on his face. It was soothing and sweet, and he whimpered again, very softly.

"Alright?" Malfoy whispered again, pulling away.

"It wasn't real?" Harry asked quietly, staring up at Malfoy, who was still holding him.

"No," Malfoy told him, smiling a little, though his eyes were still dark and haunted.

"That's what you dream of? Those are your nightmares?" Harry shivered at the thought.

"Yes."

"Everything was twisted..." Harry could not help it any longer, and he started to cry.

"Honestly, Potter," Malfoy scoffed quietly, even as he pulled Harry closer and rested his chin on the top of Harry's head. "Shh. Come on then, you'd best sleep this off. Do stop crying, Potter..." He cast a lightening spell on Harry and lifted him, carrying him to their bedroom and tucking him in.

Harry grabbed his hand. "Don't go," he said, terrified, because he felt so weak and so sleepy that he was sure the nightmares would come back, the second he fell asleep. And, for the second time ever, Malfoy sighed and let Harry pull him into bed, and held him until Harry fell asleep first.

***

Harry was buried behind a protective barrier of books, protective because he was terrified that Malfoy would come to find him, would mention those nightmares, or, more importantly, that kiss. He wasn't quite sure he was ready for dealing whatever had been behind the sweetest kiss he'd ever, ever experienced.

There were rolls and rolls of parchment all around him, and on them, he'd scribbled and doodled, long magical equations. All magic could be broken down into mathematical elements, though Harry himself had never been all that good with the mathematical derivatives of magic. Hermione had always been better at that.

After hours of staring at the equations, trying to figure out how it all fit together and how he could stop it, Harry felt like he was losing his mind. "I can't," he whimpered. "How am I supposed to stop this when I can't even figure out a fucking equation? I can't, I can't..."

And then, in a panic, he ran from the room and went to find Pansy.

"I need her," he said, bursting into the room Pansy slept in. He startled her, and a small glass vial slipped from her fingers and she stared at him in shock.

"Potter," she said, in a strange, thick voice, after a moment. "What the hell are you doing here?"

There was something brown and powdery leaking from the vial, and Harry barely paid it a second thought. He should have. "Hermione. I need Hermione. I need to talk to her, I need her help, she's better at this than I am, I need her to help me find a cure." He was rambling, shaking, everything from the past few days piling up into a mad panic. He could not handle this alone anymore; he needed Hermione. Because she was familiar and she was his, and he needed someone to talk to as much as someone to help him stop the spread of the curse.

Pansy looked at him, her eyes dark and sunken, her face pale and waxy. "Granger?" she repeated.

"Yes. I need to go find her."

"You can't leave," Pansy argued. "Draco needs you."

"But I need her. I can't do this without her. Please, Pansy..."

She sighed. "I'll see what I can do. If you do something for me."

He was instantly wary. "What?"

"Go find Draco. He was in here a while ago, and he's upset."

"Malfoy doesn't get upset."

"He's afraid you're avoiding him."

"Avoiding him? Why would I be doing that?" he asked desperately. Because he kissed you? Because you saw his nightmares? Because his nightmares are a part of you and his nightmares are the core of him, which means that the core of him is part of you as well? Because you're terrified?

"He thinks you're afraid," she said quietly.

"Afraid of what?" he whispered.

"Afraid of all the darkness inside of him. He did not want you to know the dark place he comes from and now that you know it, have been inside it, he's afraid you'll be too frightened to touch him anymore."

"And he wants to make sure I can still help him with the curse." Harry's shoulders slumped.

She smiled, just a little. "No," she said. "He just likes it when you touch him."

"He told you that?" he asked, stunned.

"He didn't have to. Go and find him, and I'll see what I can do about Granger."

She got up, and Harry was suddenly terrified that she was going to fall. He had not really spared a thought for how weak she must be. Before he could catch her, however, she caught herself on the back of a chair and glared at him. "Just go."

She Apparated out of the cavern, and for a long moment, Harry just stood there, forcing himself to breathe and fighting down panic at the thought of going to find Malfoy.

In the end, he didn't have the courage to go, even though he'd promised her he would. Instead, Harry returned to his researching, hiding behind stacks of books. An hour or so passed, and then, even though the pile of books blocked his view of the door, Harry knew that Malfoy was standing there, because he could feel it. The room was suddenly just a little bit colder.

"You're avoiding me," Malfoy said.

Harry froze, holding his breath, hoping maybe Malfoy wouldn't see him there.

"Potter. I can see you."

He let out his breath in a rush and stood up, fidgeting a little bit. "I... I'm sorry," he said.

Scoffing, Malfoy snapped abruptly, "Shut up."

"What? I mean, I am!"

"You're always fucking sorry, for everything. It pisses me off."

Startled, Harry shook his head and said, "I'm sorry-- I mean... I mean... Fuck, why are you angry at me?" He felt more hurt than he cared to admit.

"I'm not." Malfoy ran a hand through his head and snorted in disgust. "Forget it."

"Malfoy..." Harry pleaded, not understanding and yet still feeling like this was all his fault, somehow.

Malfoy's eyes narrowed and he glared at Harry hatefully as a tense silence fell over them both.

"Are you... are you alright?" Malfoy asked finally.

Harry blinked. "What?"

"The nightmares! I wasn't sure if they were going to... if you were going to be alright." He sneered, looking disgusted with himself and his concern.

"I'm fine," Harry whispered. "I mean, it was... it was terrible, but I'm alright."

Malfoy cocked his head and studied Harry for a moment, sweeping his hair behind his ear. It was a pointless move, because the blond hair just fell back into his eyes again, and Harry blinked and wondered why he'd even bothered to notice.

"And the kiss?" he asked, because the silence had grown too loud.

Malfoy's eyes widened and Harry wondered if it was the light from the fire reflecting off his face, or if Malfoy really had just turned a little red. "You kissed me first, remember?" he spat.

Wincing, Harry turned away, not wanting Malfoy to see his reaction. After all, the kiss he was referring to had been, to Harry at least, one of those secret little things he thought had been just his. That hazy memory, that bittersweet and very soft little kiss... It had become almost hallowed, sacred, in his mind. That was a kiss that fairytales were made of, somehow. And it had been just his. He had almost forgotten that it had been Malfoy he had kissed at all, the whole memory had taken on the haziness of a dream, in which Malfoy hadn't been Malfoy, but had been Draco, and Draco had been someone Harry had loved. This wasn't the same boy he had shared that kiss with, and therefore it seemed a violation that Malfoy even knew of it.

"Don't," he said shakily.

"What, you don't remember? Or you don't want to remember?"

Harry stared blankly at Malfoy, swallowing heavily. "Malfoy..."

"Fuck you!" Malfoy's face was red, eyes dark with fury, and Harry didn't know what he was so angry over.

"That's not it at all," he said softly, because he wanted to soothe that rage away and didn't know how. Malfoy shook his head slowly, anger gone in nearly an instant, replaced with an empty sort of confusion. He looked so vulnerable and confused, and Harry understood that confusion. Why the instinct to kiss or soothe would overtake them both when the other was falling apart made no sense to him and it suddenly occurred to him that Malfoy would feel the same.

Why, in his weakest, sleepiest, warmest moments, Harry would think, by accident, that he loved Malfoy... Malfoy who shouted and raged against a weakness, a curse, that his best friend had created, who fell apart more and more every day, who had to sleep in the arms of the boy he hated more than anyone else in the world... Malfoy who hated him because he was the only shelter from his own nightmares...

Harry's shoulders slumped and, before he could think about it and change his mind, he whispered, "Why do you hate me so much?"

"Hate you?" Malfoy echoed, voice strange and quiet.

"Yes."

"I've always hated you." He sounded, now, like he was reciting something he'd memorized. "Well, maybe not always," he amended thoughtfully. "I used to want to be you."

Harry took a step back, because this was yet another side of Malfoy he'd never seen before, and he was not sure his heart or his mind could take many more glimpses into the secrets of Draco Malfoy. "You didn't," he denied.

Malfoy smiled self-depreciatingly. "Not after I got to know you, no. But before. When I was a boy and the house elves would whisper about the hero, Harry Potter. I wanted to be a hero." He trailed off, cocked his head, and smirked. "And now I'm nothing. Not even my own father will acknowledge me. How sweet, especially considering the curse he has forsaken me for has most likely infected him as well. I wonder if he will recognize me as his son if I go to his deathbed, or if he will still stubbornly refuse to acknowledge that I am his heir. Fathers are strangely arrogant, even in death, I'd imagine. You'd know more about that than I."

Harry blinked, not understanding, and wondering if this rambling was a new side effect of Malfoy's disintegration into madness. "My father..." he said, and then he paused, frowning. "My father is not arrogant in death."

Malfoy seemed to consider this for a moment, before saying, "It is of no consequence to me. I grew out of wanting to be you years ago."

"No, you didn't," Harry whispered.

Gray eyes narrowed spitefully. "How would you know?" Malfoy hissed.

"I saw," Harry said shakily. "I saw, in your nightmares. I was there, Malfoy. Not only me, but how you see me. I glow in your nightmares! I'm surrounded by a halo of silver!"

He laughed. "And that means that I want to be you? Because my subconscious mind has focused on you as a representation of...of..."

"Safety?" Harry suggested nervously.

"Yes. And..."

"Quiet."

Malfoy's eyes met his again, perplexed again. "Yes. But also..."

"Light. And goodness. Serenity, maybe? That's a horrible word. Peace, then."

"Potter..."

Harry shook his head, running a trembling hand through his hair. "A hero. A fucking angel. You're just like... you're just like...everyone... everyone wants... I can't. I can't, I'm not..."

"No. No! Stop it!" Malfoy came closer, but for every step he took forward, Harry took three more back.

"I can't be that! I can't be everything good in the world, I'm just a boy, just one boy! I can't even save myself or my own side, how dare your side expect me to save them too?" Hysteria was bubbling up inside him, and he started breathing faster and faster, tears threatening.

Malfoy reached out for him and Harry stumbled backwards. "Potter," Malfoy called quietly. "Please, stop it. This isn't..."

Harry had backed himself up against the wall, and he turned to face it, panicking because there was nowhere left to run. Hysterical now, and certainly not thinking straight, he started sobbing and trying to claw his way through solid rock, tears pouring down his face.

In a matter of seconds, Malfoy was there, grabbing his hands and pulling them away from the wall, holding them tightly in his own. Harry reacted instinctively, growling and twisting, trying to pull away and, failing that, turning around to attack Malfoy. He pushed against him, snarling, fighting against him, and Malfoy only held him tightly until exhaustion and confusion over took the panic and rage. Harry slumped back against the wall, breathing heavily, and when his legs gave out moments later, Malfoy held him up. After a moment, Malfoy let go of his wrists and started drying his tears, still pinning him up against the wall, pressing his body to the length of Harry's.

Harry didn't fight, didn't open his eyes, didn't lower his head from where it tilted back against the wall. He didn't make a sound until Malfoy smoothed his hair back and slipped one hand back behind Harry's head, tilting his face back down.

"I don't want to be you," Malfoy said carefully, distinctly, " Because I would not have the strength for this and I know it. No one could be the world's hero better than you."

Harry opened his eyes wearily and tried to smile. "You said that before, you wanted to be a hero," he said.

Malfoy smiled a little and Harry suddenly realized that he hadn't backed off, hadn't let his hands fall away, and now Malfoy was cradling the back of his head and his jaw, very gently. "I can't even stay sane when it's just me I've got to fight for," he said.

"I don't know how to fight for you, or for anyone else," Harry admitted, his face crumpling a little.

Malfoy sighed. "There is a reason you are immune to the curse, Harry. It is because, in all the world, you are the only one with the emotional strength and capability to defeat the Unforgivables. You have survived the three originals and the fourth cannot touch you because of that."

"I don't want to be a hero," Harry whispered.

"Sometimes you don't get a choice."

Harry considered this for a long moment, wide eyes staring into Malfoy's, closer now than they'd ever been. "There's always a choice," he said finally. But he was growing so tired and so he rested his head on Malfoy's shoulder, closing his eyes.

"I want to shout at you," Malfoy admitted, as he pulled Harry away from the wall and guided him back to his chair by the books. "For letting yourself get this tired and so weak that you'll cry even when I'm around to see."

Harry grabbed his hand after he sat down, before Malfoy could move away. "Wait," he said.

Malfoy paused, smiling faintly. "What?"

"You can shout at me if..."

"If what?"

Harry swallowed. "If you're going to leave instead. I'd rather you stayed...even if it's just to shout... I mean, it gets kind of... lonely." He didn't even understand what he was asking for.

Malfoy looked just as confused, but he smoothed Harry's hair back off his forehead and kissed him there, lips grazing over Harry's scar. "I'll stay," he said. "But I won't shout. Tell me what you've found out."

Malfoy pulled up a chair to the other side of the table and straddled it, folding his arms on the back of it and resting his head there, listening attentively while Harry explained all his research. It was helpful, having someone to listen while he talked, to point out relevant things he'd missed in his magical equations, and they probably would have talked for hours had Harry not grown so tired that he could not stop yawning.

Rolling his eyes, Malfoy forced him to go to bed, only smirking a little this time when Harry begged him to stay, and holding him until he fell asleep, and then even a while longer.

***

Ginny was thinking, about bricks and mortar and carpentry. About how things fit together and why, why people built the things they did, and why they all eventually crumbled. The foundation, that was the important part.

She wondered how many cracks there were in her foundations now, as she lay on her back, panting and staring up at the roof and waiting for the grip of the curse to ease.

It affected her differently than it affected Ron, she thought. Because Ron screamed and clung to her and sobbed as he was plunged into nightmares and Ginny... laughed. Even as it hurt and stung and ached, her nightmares were nothing to her because this was the nightmare. Therefore, they had no power over her mind. So she rode out the waves of madness with smiles while Ron screamed beside her.

He'd started sleeping in her bed for fear of nightmares, and Ginny could not find it in her heart (did she have a heart any longer? It was the first foundation to break) to tell him to leave. So he slept curled up beside her, except when the nightmares came, and he clung to her.

Sometimes he slept, though she never did. There was too much to think about, to plan, because this was unseemly. This life, this existence, this world where Lucius was not a comfort, where memories of Lucius were not a comfort, where Ron wanted touches and kisses that she should have been ashamed to give but that she gave because at least Ron closed his eyes when she kissed him. She could see no shame in brown brown eyes so much like her own, if those eyes were closed.

"I want to die," she said softly, because that was the conclusion she had come to. Countless days had passed, days spent between living nightmares and magical nightmares, and Lucius had never loved her and now Ron loved her and that was so wrong, very wrong.

He stirred beside her. "What?" he asked sleepily.

She took his hand and drew it to her breast, right above her heartbeat. "I," she said very slowly. "Want. To. Die."

He stared blankly at her, blinking stupidly. "Ginny," he said.

She let go of his hand, snarling in disgust. "You are of no use to me," she snapped, crawling out of bed. "I want to die, I want to die! This is pathetic, this house, this life, this...everything. Me. You."

Ron got out of bed, following her out into the hall nervously. "Is it the curse, Gin?" he asked.

"This whole life is a curse!" she howled.

He grabbed her by the arms and held her tightly against him, as if binding her to him would help ease whatever affliction had come over her. "Just calm down," he told her.

It didn't work. She bucked against him, shrieking and trying to twist out of his grip.

"Ginny!" he snapped, shaking her so hard that her head slammed back against the wall. There was a dull thud and then silence. "Ginny," he said again, gentler. "Oh god, I'm sorry."

To prove it, he kissed her, and because the shock and pain had startled her and made her look at him, really look at him, for the first time in weeks, close enough to see the pain and confusion in his eyes, Ginny let him. The sudden shame that was nearly making her sick would allow her to do nothing else but let him kiss her.

***

Hermione was tied hand and foot, blindfolded, gagged, and trembling on the stone floor, when Pansy led Harry to her.

He stared, horrified, for a long moment, unable or unwilling to recognize her. But it was her and he knelt beside her, moaning softly in horror. "Why did you do this to her?" he snapped at Pansy, as he pulled the blindfold off.

"You said to bring her here, didn't specify her condition. She's lucky she's here at all, given the condition she was in when I found her," Pansy replied.

"Condition?" he echoed, frowning. The blindfold was off and Hermione's eyes were still tightly shut and she was trembling.

"It's the curse," Pansy said, shrugging. "When I found her, she was alone in an alley, screaming and lost in nightmares."

"Oh my god," he whispered, lifting her against his chest as he pulled the gag off, so her whimpers became screams. He cut the ropes that bound her and cradled her, stroking her back, as the shrieks calmed into whispers of terror, soothed by his touch.

She moaned and pressed her face into the side of his neck, and Harry rocked her, whispering to her and completely blind to the rest of the world. Pansy left, but Harry didn't notice.

After Hermione had calmed into a natural sleep, Harry glanced up, startled to find Malfoy standing there, eyes narrowed and watching him with something indefinable in his eyes. Harry blinked. "I didn't see you there," he said nervously.

"I know. That's Granger."

"Yes. She... she's got the curse. And she needs some place to sleep."

"Oh, what, not with you?" Malfoy spat sarcastically.

Harry stood up, still holding her, and said quietly, "I sleep with you, Malfoy."

Malfoy had been glaring at Hermione hatefully, and he lifted his eyes to Harry's, looking startled. Then, he said, "She can sleep in the next room. You'll probably have to go to her in the middle of the night sometimes."

"Thank you," Harry whispered, because Malfoy was going to let him help her.

Malfoy looked like he was going to say something, and then he just scowled and shook his head, walking away.

Hermione was still sleeping deeply when Harry brought her to the room closest to his, laying her in an unused bed and stroking her hair out of her face. He pulled a chair over and sat at her bedside, not bothering to think about how it was now second nature to crawl into bed with Malfoy when he was affected this way, and yet he could not do the same for Hermione.

He held her hand and stroked her face, studying it and noting the ways it had changed, grown slimmer and paler with worry and fear. There were dark circles under her eyes and she still wore her cloak, so he gently pulled it off and set it aside.

Something slipped out of her pocket, hit the stone ground, and slid across the floor. It was a gun.

"What is that?" Malfoy asked, and Harry spun around quickly, startled.

"I didn't know you were here," he said. "How long..."

Malfoy shrugged. "I was just checking. What is this?" He bent and picked up the gun.

"A gun," Harry replied. "I don't know why she had it."

"And what is she doing here?" Malfoy slipped the gun into his pocket and looked up almost hesitantly.

"I needed her help," Harry said, looking away, uncomfortable because that was only half of the reason he'd had Pansy bring her here. He needed some sort of buffer, someone to keep with him so he never had to be alone, either alone by himself or alone with Malfoy. He did not want time to think by himself and did not want time to consider what it was he felt for Malfoy and why.

"You love her," Malfoy said.

Harry blinked. "What?"

"Granger. The way you were holding her. You love her."

"She's my best friend, if that's what you mean. I hold you the same way."

"I didn't..." Malfoy trailed off.

"Didn't what?"

"Didn't remember. You holding me, I mean."

Harry smiled, because Malfoy looked strangely vulnerable, admitting that, his face a little flushed. He smoothed a lock of Malfoy's hair back behind his ears, mirroring the action he'd seen Malfoy make so many times before. "I like... holding you." He flushed and Malfoy's eyes narrowed in confusion.

"Potter, what are you--"

"I don't know." And he didn't. But he was tracing Malfoy's jaw, because it was so delicate and strong and soft, and then his fingers were sliding up, to the skin behind his ear, and then running through Malfoy's hair. It was madness, really, that he'd brought Hermione here to prevent just this and she was lying right there and yet there was still this...

He let out a breath he seemed to have been holding for all of his life and pulled Malfoy closer, a strange shiver running through his body when Malfoy's lips parted the tiniest bit and his eyes fluttered shut, almost against his will.

It was a hesitant kiss, because Harry knew that there would be no blaming this kiss on either sleep or hysteria. It was real and it was...soft. A slight brush of lips and faltering of breathing and then Harry's fingers flexed in Malfoy's hair, stroking a little. At that slight movement, Malfoy made a soft noise in the back of his throat, a longing sort of sigh that was too sweet and strange to belong to Malfoy (but then, maybe that was the point. It belonged to Harry and Malfoy had been saving it for him all these years). He tilted his head, fitting his lips closer to Harry's, and parting them just a bit further. Harry was trembling but he did the same, lips parting and pressing more firmly against Malfoy's, though the angle was wrong.

Malfoy reached up, cupped Harry's jaw, and tilted it towards a bit so they fit together more perfectly, and then left his hand there, cradling Harry's face and stroking his cheek.

It was very careful and fragile and still, as if they were both afraid that something was about to break, and maybe it was.

Then Malfoy's tongue hesitantly slipped just a tiny bit into Harry's mouth, a delicate taste, and Harry followed it back into Malfoy's mouth to do the same. Their tongues collided somewhere in the middle and it was there that the fragileness of the kiss was broken. Harry pressed closer and Malfoy's free hand slid up his back, pulling him closer still. Catching his breath, Harry ground his mouth against Malfoy's, tilting the shorter boy's head back running his fingers through his hair as he let Malfoy's tongue into his mouth, let him suck on his lower lip and graze it with his teeth.

It was all very intoxicating, Harry had never imagined a kiss could affect him as drastically as a few glasses of wine could, but the room was spinning and he couldn't catch his breath. Not to mention rational thought was all but impossible and he just wanted more of Malfoy's mouth, his lips, his tongue, his entire body, more of the nervousness and the hesitation and the kisses that neither could deny when they were over.

There was a sort of understanding in the way that neither was confident enough to end the kiss, because they both knew that when this kiss was over and they had to open their eyes, nothing would be the same again.

"Don't," Harry finally whispered, breath brushing against Malfoy's lips. He gave up whatever he'd been trying to say to kiss Malfoy again.

"Don't what?" Malfoy pressed his lips to Harry's again, kissing the corner of his mouth.

"Open your eyes."

Whether he had meant to say 'don't open your eyes' or had meant to say don't do something else and then had forgotten and meant for Malfoy to open his eyes, it didn't matter, because at his words, his own eyes opened and so did Malfoy's. They were very close, close enough for Harry to see the darker specks of black that rimmed Malfoy's irises and the very faint flush on his cheeks.

Somehow, Harry's arms had gotten tangled up around Malfoy's shoulders, and Malfoy's hand was still cradling Harry's cheek, the other resting between his shoulder blades. "Sorry," Harry breathed, though he didn't try pulling away.

"Uhm," Malfoy said in reply, clearing his throat. He pulled his hand away from Harry's cheek to nervously push his hair back behind his ear, wrinkling his nose when it just fell back to brush his cheek again.

Neither knew what to say and probably wouldn't have said anything at all, would have been content to stand there all night wrapped up and staring at each other that way.

"I told you," Pansy said from the doorway.

Yelping, Harry tore away from Malfoy so fast that he nearly tripped, and Malfoy had to grab his elbow to steady him. "Pansy," Harry said breathlessly, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. "What are you doing?"

She smirked. "Bringing a potion for Granger. Give it to her when she wakes up, it will help control the side effects of the curse and give her strength." She left the potion on a table and then slipped out of the room. Harry ran after her.

"Wait!" he called, grabbing her arm. "Wait. What did you mean, you told me what?"

Smirking again, she said, "That it's rather easy to love him."

"I--I don't," he stammered.

She just smiled and walked away.

Harry stared at her blankly, not sure what to think, though he was absolutely positively sure that there was no way in hell he could stand to turn and walk back into that room after that.

"Granger's awake," Malfoy said quietly from behind him.

Harry's back stiffened and he licked his lips subconsciously before turning. Malfoy was leaning against the doorway, watching him lazily, almost as if he wasn't as tense and nervous as Harry was.

"She is?" he squeaked, wincing at the frightened sound of his own voice.

Malfoy smirked and said, "You're blushing."

Harry swallowed heavily and his eyes widened. He wasn't sure how to take this, how to handle the way things had changed between them, wasn't sure how to bring it to Malfoy's attention that he was blushing too without making Malfoy hate him.

So instead, because he did not want to be seen as the weak one, because he did not want Malfoy to know how terrified he was of this, Harry walked towards him as if he had every faith in himself and what he was about to do.

He slid his hand up to cradle Malfoy's jaw, smiled carelessly, and brushed his lips lightly over Malfoy's. "Thanks," he said easily, slipping passed Malfoy and into Hermione's room. He didn't look back but he hoped Malfoy was stunned, shocked, breathless even, because god knows, Harry was.

Her face was flushed and Harry wondered how long she'd been awake for. Her dark eyes were hazy with weakness, and before he could forget, he helped her sit up and held the potion to her lips, making sure she drank it all.

"It will help you recover your strength," he told her.

Hermione drank, if only because she could not talk with the glass held to her lips, and as soon as he took it away, she reached up and touched his face. "Oh Harry," she whispered, voice rough. "What's happened to you?"

He smiled shakily at her. "I'm fine," he said. "How are you?"

She smiled a little bitterly. "I'm alright, considering. I was... worried about you. There were rumours that you were a spy and then you just disappeared."

"There's a lot I have to tell you," he said. "I'm sorry about everything with Pansy. I would not have sent her after you had I known she'd bring you back that way."

Hermione blinked and smiled a little. "Oh, that," she said. "I don't think she had a choice. I was a bit mad when she found me."

"And the gun?" he asked quietly.

She sighed. "The world is falling apart, Harry. It isn't safe anymore. Everyone is desperate for respite from nightmares and they're losing their minds. You must know what it's like."

He shook his head slowly and whispered, "I'm immune to it."

She studied his face again and then said solemnly, "Tell me what's been happening, Harry."

He told her everything he knew about the curse, the research he'd been doing, the conclusions he'd come to, while she listened attentively, dark eyes narrowed and focused on every word. Hours could have gone by and he wouldn't have noticed.

By the time he finished, his voice was hoarse and Hermione looked on the verge of passing out from exhaustion, though her eyes were still wide and bright.

"So I had Pansy bring you here so you could help," he said.

She blinked and considered for a moment and then said, "And Malfoy?"

"What about him?"

"Okay," she said, going along with him. Harry's eyes narrowed suspiciously but he didn't comment.

"You're tired," he said. "You should sleep." He smoothed the blanket up to her chin and she smiled ruefully.

When he tried to walk away, she grabbed his hand. "If the... if the nightmares come back..." she looked terrified.

"I'll be here," he promised.

"Thank you," she whispered, eyelids fluttering sleepily.

Harry blew out the candle on the bedside table and cast a dimming charm on the fire in the hearth before slipping from the room and going into his own.

It was dark and Malfoy was lying very still on his stomach, pressing his face into the pillow and trembling.

Harry blinked. "Malfoy? What's wrong?" he called, approaching warily.

Turning his face a little, Malfoy moaned softly. Harry could see how pale he was, how his skin glistened with sweat, his eyes tightly shut.

"It's the curse, isn't it?" Harry sighed. "Why didn't you call for me?"

Malfoy nodded, smiling a little ruefully. "You were busy," he ground out, still fighting the onslaught of nightmares. "I don't need..." Malfoy panted.

"Bloody hell," Harry mumbled, climbing onto the bed. "Come here."

With a strangled whimper, Malfoy lurched to his knees and fell against Harry, hitting him hard enough to knock him onto his back. Burying his face against Harry's chest, Malfoy moaned, shaking his head. "I hate it," he said, voice bleak. "I hate...I hate... Oh god."

"It's alright," Harry whispered, stroking his hair. "I won't let go."

Malfoy mumbled a little against him and held onto him tightly, his entire body trembling as he was sucked back into his nightmares.

Harry wouldn't have let go before, but now that he'd been there and he knew where Malfoy went when the madness took him, he wouldn't have let go for anything.

It did not take long for the nightmares to take him, and Harry held Malfoy all through them, stroking his back and whispering soothingly to him. He pushed his hair back and kissed his forehead, holding him until the nightmares faded into regular sleep, and only then did he let himself rest, drifting off to sleep with Malfoy still on top of him, pinning him to the mattress and breathing evenly against his collarbone.


Author notes: The lyrics at the beginning are from Wound by the Smashing Pumpkins.

Sorry this update took so long, I made it extra long in a mad attempt to make up for it! Hope you liked it!

Dedicated to Ani my valentine.